The Hummingbird's Song
by heartsn'minds
Summary: There she sits, by the window, hoping for some acknowledgement from him. Anything, she thinks, but this cold indifference. Klaus and Caroline and a misunderstanding. Oneshot.


Caroline sat, her hands folded in her lap and her eyes gazing out of the magnificent villa Klaus had bought for them. It was beautiful, really - all Tuscan styled with Spanish-esque arches; it was grandiose and spacious, giving the impression that the warm Italian air never ceased to be blowing into the home.

If only she felt half as joyful to be living within its walls.

For nearly a decade, after Caroline had owed up to what she felt and went to see Klaus in New Orleans, she had been waiting for that epic love of theirs to take fire. She wanted it all - the confession, the grand display of emotion, and the sweet and tender caresses and kisses - but she'd been willing to give up the physical displays of love for the quiet, almost tense, affection she and Klaus had. She willingly gave up any sentimentality that the two may share - after all, he was the King of New Orleans, he wouldn't be saving locks of her hair or giving her roses anytime soon.

But she didn't care about those trivial things.

She thought that she and Klaus were going to have that passionate, fiery resonance of love and devotion - the kind of things she read about in Shakespeare. That intense, almost full to bursting displays of wholesome togetherness, expressed not in words or actions, but acknowledgement and tender care.

She'd given up her hopes of cheesy morning kisses and greetings. She'd given up her expectations of his remembering their anniversaries and birthdays because she figured that dates weren't half as important if the love itself was kept kindled and blazing. She'd given up Tyler and Mystic Falls, she'd given up her human dreams of becoming a designer. She'd given up heart and soul and mind - and for what?

For what, Caroline pondered as she sat there, upon her golden silk threaded European chaise. For material items that Klaus seemed to pull out of thin air at will? For a few shows at some theater in France? For a globetrotting experience that she would have gladly given up for a small modicum of emotion displayed to her by the one she loved?

Closing her sky blue eyes, Caroline pressed her lips together, vowing not to cry. She would not shed a tear for a man who gave so little regard to her, a man whose lies were so well crafted that she had been a fool, a complete and utter fool, to not have seen through them earlier.

But how could she?

Those lies, those sweet, sweet half truths that escaped those lips of his…they were the most welcoming poison she had ever encountered, had ever tasted. Nay, _gulped_ down with the greediness one would drink the world's finest mulled mead. She bought into each and every one of his words, the promises of something grand and unexpected, the promise of passion and devotion. The promise of love and adventure and surprise. The promise of _forever_.

How cliche, Caroline now thought, forever's just a word - that's all. There's nothing more to it than seven letters and two syllables. It's a word made of two separate words 'for' and 'ever'. There's nothing more to it than that.

Klaus had certainly proven it to her.

Going out to sleep with other women, oh by god did Caroline know about that - she knew about the drunken hazes he went through when he was absolutely high off of the power he possessed. How she would wait in vain upon her (once upon a time it had been theirs) bed, using every ounce of control she had to not scream at the empty house, just waiting for him to come back home. To come back to her.

It had been years since he had last laid with her - last touched her with those hands of this. Large and warm, callous and rough from years of sword fighting and painting and work in terms of physical labor - but gentle when they touched her soft skin. Holding her as if she were made of nothing but glass and silk, until she reacted with such a passion that caused him to throw caution to the wind, grasping her supple body as if _she_ were _his_ soul and heart.

It was those memories that kept Caroline's hope alive. The hope that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for them - that somehow he could regain whatever affection he last held for her half a decade ago.

Promises, promises.

_What cheap lies,_ Caroline mused as she unfolded her hands, opened her eyes to see the setting sun. _And he still hasn't - _

The clicking of the door to her - yes, her - bedroom jolted her from the bitter revere she was about to enter. Without even turning her head, Caroline knew it was Klaus - only he carried that warm, spicy scent that made her want to run into his arms and to have him clutch her tight, to make her feel as safe as he did before.

"Love…are you all right?" His ariose British voice inquired, breaking the air of silence and causing Caroline's hands to reach up to brush against her cheeks.

She was crying.

She'd finally cracked.

Without another word, she tried to wipe away the traitorous tears - the signs of her weakness - and stood up, immediately turning away from him.

"I'm fine," she managed to croak out, but her voice was rough from disuse and mingled in with her quiet sobs, sounded just as fractured and broken as her heart was.

Before she walked another step away, Klaus grasped onto her wrist, pulling her into his arms.

"Don't lie to me," he hissed out, his voice turning harsh with frustration as he held onto her - only this time, Caroline wanted nothing more than to push him away.

"Let me go," she demanded, though her eyes were still transfixed onto the floor. She dared not look up for she knew that the part of her that loved him unconditionally would only spur him on some more, for even his anger was better than the indifference he daily gave unto her.

For nearly five years Caroline had stood by his side, witnessing each brutal murder in the civil war he waged against Marcel. She had tended to his wounds, urged him on his moments of despair, loved him when he loathed himself. She cared for him when no one else would and cried for him when he lost, cheered for him when he rejoiced…all she wanted now, Caroline closed her eyes, all she wanted now was the reciprocation of his love.

After all, if the murders she witnessed - murders done by his own hand - weren't enough to drive her away, then what did he think would?

Nothing, Caroline knew. Nothing except his indifference towards her.

She could manage his anger - his bitterness, despair, cruelty, and short temper. She could take those emotions and she could somehow understand them.

But this, this! Caroline nearly wanted to burst out, this was nothing but the very basest form of hatred! This cold indifference was werewolf venom that Klaus repeatedly injected into her, hoping to kill her with small doses.

And how she desperately wanted to die.

If he were to tell her he loathed her, then she would leave (though it would break her hear to do so). She wanted something - anything - but this callous apathy.

Anything.

"Let me go," she tried again, this time putting more force into her words, trying to twist her way from his tight grasp.

When she felt the rough skin of his finger begin to trace down her cheek, she stilled. The tenderness causing her to lean towards his touch.

"What do you want from me, love?" He whispered, his voice was almost pleading. He sounded…desperate. Broken. Broken just as she was.

Immediately, she snapped her eyes open, her warm blue orbs meeting his cobalt blue ones straight on.

Only, Caroline realized, they weren't as cold as she remembered them to be…they were…warm?

She shook her head. Now her own mind was playing tricks on her.

_Don't be stupid, Caroline…don't do anything stupid. _

Without another word, she closed her eyes again, willing herself not to look into those blue-gray eyes that seemed to want to break her very soul in two.

"Won't you even look at me?" He murmured, the softness in his voice catching Caroline off guard. "You do not think that monsters deserve love…do you?"

"You're not a monster," Caroline immediately retorted, voice growing stronger. "And you've always had mine." She added on, her voice lowering in volume but never dwindling in power.

She expected him to mock her now, for openly wearing her heart on her sleeve - she waited for the cold rebuke or worse even, the disdainful disregard.

But she received none.

Willing her eyes to open, she saw his usually disinterested eyes glowing bright with a sadness that burned her heart, as if someone had plunged a stake deep into her chest. Her throat felt dry and her body shaky - that mournful sadness, that pleading despair…it was a mirror image of her own face.

"I've never thought to delude myself into thinking I could earn your love," he whispered, "even I am not as vain to hope for something as precious as that…I know what you have seen by my side, and I know the…disgust you must feel - "

"How can you say that?" Caroline suddenly burst out, her emotions breaking free from the gilded cage she'd locked them in, her eyes blazing. "How can you presume to know what I feel if you've never even so much as glanced my way within these last five years?"

Klaus's eyes widened at her outburst, his hands frozen for a moment before they pulled her even closer to his body, forcing their eyes to meet again. "Then was there something - _anything_ - that I have done that has caused you to pull away from me?" He demanded, his eyes searching, voice pleading.

Caroline nearly wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all - as if he didn't know! How strong did he think she was? That she was infallible? _No, _Caroline mused, _she'd fallen long ago._

"Is this some kind of trick?" She asked, voice fierce, "some kind of taunt that you decided to pull on me for your own amusement because your _whores_," Caroline spat out, "weren't there for you tonight?"

As soon as those words left her mouth, she could feel Klaus's body temperature rise, she saw his face take on a look of sheer anger and…relief? "There was no one," he said, voice grave and so hot with passion that Caroline could almost feel the words searing into her skin, "_no one_ but you, Caroline," he seethed, his eyes alight with an ardor that Caroline had long since thought dead.

"As if you cared about me!" Caroline cried, the tears filling her eyes again. This time, she didn't try to stop them. "For a decade, Klaus, for a _decade_ I have stood by your side and I have loved you through everything. I have witnessed every atrocity you've committed for the sake of bringing New Orleans to her knees - and I have _loved_ you through that." Caroline said, her voice shaking with barely restrained passion. "I never expected you to love me, I never expected any grand display of emotion or confession. I had only hoped, only prayed to whatever god is out there, that you would simply _acknowledge_ me with a word - a simple word! - of love. Or of emotion, of _anything_. Anything," the blonde murmured, the tears slowly slipping down her cheeks, "anything but this cruel indifference."

Turning now, Caroline managed to slip herself from Klaus's arms, mentally berating herself for her stupidity. For her foolish and childish display of emotion to a man who barely even gave her the time of day.

After all, it wasn't his words that hurt her - how could they, Caroline reasoned, when he barely even spoke to her?

Before Caroline could fully escape from the room, Klaus's hand caught her wrist, easily pulling her back into his arms. His eyes were burning with an emotion that Caroline refused to identity but when he caressed her cheek, when his hands tangled themselves in her hair, she lifted her eyes to see a small - but genuine - smile appearing upon his dimpled face.

"Caroline, love, I was never indifferent," he whispered, this time a tremble running through his voice as he addressed her, "only afraid."

* * *

**A/N: A take on the fears of the Big Bad Wolf. **

**Leave a review to tell me how this went, please. **


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